


Good Intent

by Sweet_Nemesis



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: 1.0 References, Ala Mhigan Warrior of Light - Freeform, Complicated History, Drabbles, Enemies to Allies To Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Female Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Gen, Grand Philosophical Debates, Less Grand Pining, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slow Burn, Spy/Mark Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-23
Updated: 2021-02-23
Packaged: 2021-03-14 05:34:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 1,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29662530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sweet_Nemesis/pseuds/Sweet_Nemesis
Summary: Gardenia and her twin brother threw their lives and innocence away at fifteen with the fall of the Mad King of Ala Mhigo and the conquest of their country, content to live their lives as spies for the Ala Mhigan Resistance within the ranks of their conscripted countrymen and scuppering every Garlean plan they could get their hands on until they met their ends.Twenty years later, the now Warrior of Light and the once Black Wolf no longer stand opposite each other, but side by side.And what does that feel like?
Relationships: Gaius van Baelsar/Warrior of Light
Kudos: 6





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is really just a collection of mini-drabbles I do as captions on my blog, but they will build into something more for 6.0 because I am Looking Intently at Garlemald content.

“Tsillah.” He says after a moment’s deliberation, not a question but a discovery. Gardenia has simply been enjoying the view from Terncliff’s bluffs when Gaius chooses to speak, but she turns her head minutely when he does. Perhaps it’s surprising considering their extended past, but she smiles with genuine amusement at the name. 

“And here I thought you’d never learn.” She answers by way of an admission. Gaius can’t help but look the woman over once more, fitting together pieces he chides himself for not noticing years beforehand. Tsillah oen Daveed had been one of a handful of exemplary officers that’d found their files on his desk regardless of origin or race before he’d handpicked Rhitahtyn as one of his personally elevated coterie. A remarkable soldier with a talent for strategising on the fly, to marry the idea of that twenty-five year old conscript to the thirty-five year old Warrior of Light before him now makes an unsettling amount of sense.

“Tell me,” He starts, with little force behind it, “Had I chosen you for Praefectus, would I have found a knife in my back?” For her part, Gardenia’s expression barely shifts. The question is a fair one for a curious tactician, after all.

“No.” She states simply, finally looking at him and gesturing for the Black Wolf to heel. He does. “You were too high profile and we were spies, not assassins.” The woman turns to look back out over the lapping waves she and her brother drowned their commanding officer in a decade prior. “We would have seen your unit dismantled and you disgraced, or you protected and your intelligence intercepted.”

“And now?”

“You did one of those yourself quite handily, don’t you think?”


	2. Chapter 2

Her arms are folded across her chest as Gaius approaches, wiping spittle from his face and eye with a flat stoicism. For a small mercy, Gardenia says nothing, simply watches as she had earlier during the interaction with the Resistance member that had landed him in such a state. To call the look on her face _smug_ would be incorrect, but Gaius can’t think of how else to describe the twist to her lips, or glint in her eye.

Which is why it’s unanticipated when she pulls a handkerchief from the ruffles at her chest and hands it to him with a flourish he’s learnt over the past few months is part of her off-duty personality.

“No smart comment?” Gaius asks, eyeing the embroidered roses on the square of cotton between her fingers with something between curiosity and distrust. Gardenia raises a single green eyebrow and pierces him with a dry look before deigning to answer.

“What’s there to say that we both don’t already know? That I’m sorry? No. That you _deserve_ it?” She snorts, “You accept that without my encouragement, and I have better things to do than twist the knife.”

The handkerchief is shook in his direction to punctuate her sentence, and Gaius deliberates for a moment before taking it finally with a single nod of thanks. The fabric is body-warm and the scent of honeysuckle in the weave sticks in his throat even after she leaves without taking it back.


	3. Chapter 3

“It’s strange,” Gardenia hums a little, musing aloud as she runs a thumb over the hairline fractures on the mask in her hand, “All those Ascian masks taken as trophies, Baelsar, but you give _this_ one pride of place.”

He turns away from studying the camp to face her, a touch of melancholy to his features as he looks at what had once been his highest honour in the hands of who had once been his oldest enemy.

“It’s a reminder.” He states, pausing a moment to push his more self-pitying thoughts away–he has no right to them, after all. “That man is dead, his hubris was his undoing.” A muscle in his jaw tics as Gaius grits his teeth. Nia raises an eyebrow. “The first shadow I hunted was my own. The Black Wolf–”

“–Was slain by _me_.” She cuts across him finally and he stalls. As ever, the woman opposite him is unreadable, her countenance always a melting pot of affectionately fond, intensely disappointed, vaguely angry, and highly amused. She gestures with the mask a little, “By that logic this is not _your_ prize, Baelsar, it’s _mine_.”

“Do you intend to claim it?” He asks, not especially against the idea. She is correct, after all, and he’s aware she’s not above symbolic jibes. She flashes a smile, more a baring of teeth than anything else.

“Yes. But whatever you’re thinking is wrong on several counts, of course.” The mask turns over in her hands a few times, but she doesn’t break eye contact. “The man who wore this mask didn’t die, even metaphorically. You carry your mistakes, Baelsar, and I’m glad of that.” Surprise and something else stills the breath in his lungs as she continues, “You bear the weight without complaint, you changed your ways without my goading.”

“This is not my proof that I _killed_ the Black Wolf, this is my proof he joined me.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A break from the others, this contextualises some references in the first chapter! Tsillah and Rafael were Gardenia and Galahad's false names as conscripts.

The waves below lap and crash against the bluffs of a newly captured Terncliff with a calming cadence despite the fighting earlier. They drown words spoken between twins as easily as they drowned their commanding officer hours beforehand, Gardenia’s strong, sure grip holding the man’s head underwater as Galahad’s bulk kept him from splashing too violently and alerting the other soldiers.

Here, speaking in hushed, warm tones at a counter to the cool night, they’re not Nightshade and The Prince, storied resistance spies, nor are they Tsillah and Rafa Pyr Daveed, dutiful, exemplary Ala Mhigan conscripts. In the tense quiet of this night, they’re simply Gardenia and Galahad for a breath or two, a rarer and rarer occurrence as the years wear on.

“You get the lass out?” Nia asks, lips barely moving as she speaks low. Gala hums a positive response and she nods once, closing her eyes and leaning back to face the clear sky. Another member spirited away before the Imperials could get their hands around the throat of the resistance.

“Aye, and ‘er sprog.”

"Bit o’ good at least.”

In an hour the masks will slip back into place, the accents will drop, the posture will straighten–but paperwork will go missing or be deemed unusable, transmissions will muddle orders, and their superior will be deemed AWOL.

Who they are has always been a small price to pay for their homeland.


	5. Chapter 5

The alarum blares deafeningly over the sounds of explosions and hollered orders, red alert painting the night sky a bloody shade as the Daveeds flee, sliding under beams and over rails. Tsillah and Rafael are left in the dust, cover blown alongside the Magitek Gunship that’d been so close to taking off and obliterating Limsa Lominsa.

Gardenia and Galahad have never seen the port city, but that hadn’t slowed their decision making down one iota at the time, all they knew for certain was that in order to prevent the myriad deaths abroad they would have to finally pull back the curtain on Nightshade and The Prince.

Their lives had always been a small price to pay, but they never said they had to stick around for when the bill came due.

“May I just say,” Galahad laughed through gritted teeth, an edge of giddy lunacy to his tone, “It’s been a _fucking_ pleasure, Nia. I mean it. Sincerely.”

Gardenia swung her legs over the next railing, her breathing controlled as she shot him a harsh look. “Don’t say it like that. We’re getting out.”

“Oh _you_ will, certainly.” His head dipped as he avoided her gaze, Galahad knew exactly the sort of hurt anger he’d see there at what he implied, but it’d ever been his way to try and cover for his sister.

“Shut up.” Nia hissed finally, schooling her expression after a moment and pressing a hand to the freely bleeding shrapnel wound in her thigh, “ **Together.** Or not. At. All.”


End file.
